The First Hunger Games: Fight For Freedom
by MarkizzMAX
Summary: Ever wonder what the first Hunger Games were like? You'd be surprised. Please read and review.
1. Chapter 1

I AM NOT COPYRIGHTING THE HUNGER GAMES BOOKS. THIS IS JUST FAN-FICTION. PLEASE ENJOY.

Chapter 1 -  
The First Reaping

Freedom, that's what we lost after the Second Civil War. I look up at the clear blue sky and to my amazement spot a bald eagle flying high above the city. I wish I was that eagle, so I could fly over the electric fence perimeter that now surrounds the city. I take out my lucky half dollar coin from my wallet and look at the bald eagle on the back of the coin. It looks fearless and brave compared to the real eagle. When I look up to see the difference, I see that the eagle has already flown over the fence. I look at the coin again and notice that this eagle has thirteen sharp arrows in it's right talon. I'm reminded of the terrible game that is going to take place soon in a few days. A game that I am forced to play, but not have any fun.

I return my attention to the noise below my feet. From up here on top of the City Hall building, I can see people from the New Capital setting up hundreds of chairs in the square. They are here to make sure that everyone in the city, now commonly known as District 13, is present for the first ever Hunger Games Reaping Ceremony.

The New Capital is forcing every boy and girl between the ages of twelve and eighteen to attend. Those who are younger or older are also required to come and watch. I feel bad for those who are going to turn twelve soon, I unfortunately will not be eighteen for three more years. I'm fifteen but look eighteen to most people already. I wish I was eighteen now so I wouldn't have to be a part of this sick game. I don't want to play any game involving murder.

The New President calls it a game, but everyone knows that it's really a cruel and unusual punishment. If it wasn't for the rebellion that broke out ten years ago, none of this would be happening right now. I wouldn't be waiting for the reaping to begin, I would be waiting for class to start at my old school. Of course, I can't go to school anymore even if I wanted too, since it was demolished during the war. At first kids of all ages were happy they didn't have to go to school anymore. Today every kid wishes they could go back instead of having to attend the reaping. Especially me.

The City Hall bell rings from above and startles me by surprise. Much like a school assembly bell, it brings many children and teenagers together to one place. This bell however isn't a reminder to get to class on time, it's to send everyone to the vice principal's office. In this case the vice principal is the Vice President, and the office is The Reaping Ceremony. I'd rather get detention.

I stand up from the flat roof of the building and open the door that's behind me. I slowly begin walking down the white stone steps that lead down to the grand hall entrance. I should exit the building now, but I decide to go into the hall of records room one last time. I walk into the right hallway and open the door at the end, once inside, I lock door behind me. Ever since the war began, my father and I have been living in the City Hall building. Our home was burned down, and unfortunately my mother died in the fire. I remember she would bake the most delicious bread in the city. My father was running for Mayor at the time, so when his opponent died in the city riot, he became City Mayor instead. I'm going to miss living in the City Hall building.

I am going to miss the Hall of records room the most though. I've read most of the books in here. Many of them are about city property, but some are about past events in U.S. History. I pick out my favorite book from a dusty old shelf and sit down to read it one last time on a rocking chair near the window. It's about the American Revolutionary War of 1775. It's my favorite book because I enjoy reading about the old methods of battle tactics and weaponry. I also like it because it explains how the first colonists of America gained their independence from the British army. I wish every District could gain independence from the New Capital, but I really wish that the New President wouldn't force anyone to fight to the death. Especially kids who had nothing to do with the rebellion in the first place.

I was only six when the Second Cival War broke out between the fifty states and the tyranny of the Old Capital. My father tells me that it happened because classified information about the government controlling everything and spying on everyone in America was revealed in the media. When people found out they rebelled and started riots in every city. Then a team of rebels called The Freedom Fighters murdered the President and his family. That's when the Vice President became in charge and demanded those loyal to him in the military to put an end to the revolution. The military killed thousands of people and destroyed many cities all across the country. The Vice President declared World War III on any other nation that would intervene. It worked, no one came to the rescue. In the end, the Vice President became the New President and The United States Of America was renamed Panem, after President Maximilian Panem himself.

I hate that guy so much, so much that I'm going to risk my own life to end his. I am startled again by another loud sound, my father is knocking on the door. I unlock the door and return to my seat. My father walks in the room and locks the door again, making sure that nobody will hear us talking. He brings me great news, he tells me that the Vice President has allowed me to skip the Reaping Ceramony this year.

The news is so unbelievable, that I have to ask my father, "Why is he letting me live?"

My father tells me, "Because I paid him off."

"No! How much! You shouldn't of done that, you know we need every penny of our life savings!" I retaliate.

"I only gave him half son, I had to pay him in order to keep you safe from that evil game." He says patiently, trying to get me to calm down. My father has always looked out for me, even during the Second Cival War. I remember he once took a bullet to the arm for me. He is a kind but very brave man, unlike me. I lack the bravery and courage that my father has always had.

"Father, I appreciate what you have done for me." I say and then look outside the window. Yesterday I remember watching a few kids playing hopscotch outside, but today I see many children sitting and crying waiting to be called for the death penalty. What kind of role model would I be to those kids if I skipped out on the Reaping on the very first year? A very selfish and cowardly one.

I look back at my father and tell him, "Please watch the children for me, feed them when they ask you for food." My father is speachless, and he in return hugs me tight and also begins to cry. I can't help but shed a few tears myself, and then quickly wipe them off with my sleeve. I mustn't show any signs of weakness outside, I must be brave like my father.

I let go of him and unlock the door one last time, then my father and I begin walking slowly down the hallway until we reach the front entrance. I look at my father and he smilies back proudly. I open the two doors and step outside into the warm sunlight. I make my way down the steps of the City Hall building and raise my left hand high in the air, remembering the eagle I saw earlier this morning in the sky. I make sure everyone is watching. Every man, woman, and child. And when I'm completely sure that everyone in District 13 is watching me, especially the Vice President who is standing next to the microphone, I declare, "I am Marcus Mellark, and I volunteer as tribute."


	2. Chapter 2

Chapter 2 -  
The First Volunteer

Silence. For a minute it's dead silent as I stand in front of the children. The kids stop crying and the adults stop talking among themselves. The children look at me with wet eyes and pale white faces. The Vice President is also pale and is starting right at me. Besides the ridiculous expression on his face, he also looks the part. He is wearing clothes the first president, George Washington wore. He has a blue military jacket on, white leggings, leather boots, and to top it off a big white curly wig on his head. My father is standing right behind him wearing only a black suit and tie.

I put down my arm and look back at the Vice President. I decide it's time to kill the silence between us. "I volunteer myself, but only me. No other child is to be reaped." I say out loud, making sure that everyone has heard me.

The Vice President breaks his silence with a simple, "No."

"And why not?" I ask him.

"Because every District must have two tributes. Plus you cannot volunteer yourself. Those are the rules." He tells me with a fake smile. It would be funny if he was wearing George Washington's wooden teeth, so I could tell him to stop barking at me, oh well.

Instead I tell him, "Is that so? Do the rules allow you to bribe my father for money that you obviously don't need, so that I won't have to be reaped with the rest of these children?" I respond with a genuine grin.

The adults in the crowd gasp with surprise and begin booing him. The Vice President's fake smile quickly fades and is replaced by a real ashamed frown. He grabs the microphone in a hurry and makes an awkward attempt to adjust his blood red tie. He nervously asks the people in the crowd to be quiet and looks into one of the cameras that a camera man holds near him. "I didn't bribe this young man's father, this boy is clearly lying to all of you to save himself from the games." He lies.

The crowd stops booing and one man in the back row shouts, "Is this true Marcus?"

I truthfully tell the crowd what they want to hear, "No of course not, why would I want to save myself? I volunteered remember."

The crowd begins to boo again at the Vice President. He on the other hand looks even more nervous than before. He steps away from the mic and waves me over to follow him into the City Hall building. I am reluctant to follow him, but I do so anyways. As soon as I enter the door, he instantly slams the doors behind me and grabs me by my plain white tee. I was never fond of wearing fancy suits and ties. If I wore a tie, the Vice President would have pulled my neck off with it.

"Listen you little punk! I didn't sit on a cheap commercial airline for six hours just to come here and be humiliated on national television, you understand?" The Vice President shouts in my ear.

"Why are you so angry Mr. Snow? You should chill." I mock him, then laugh in his face. He shakes me again but I push him back. I find it funny that this man, who has to be in his mid-twenties, can so easily be outraged by a fifteen year old guy like me.

I quickly think of something clever to say so I can make him nervous again. I choose my words carefully and then whisper into his ear, "Careful Mr. Vice President, you wouldn't want to get more blood on your hands, you understand?"

It works, his face becomes pale again like snow, and he freezes wear he stands. I am one of the few people who knows about his dirty little secret. My father told me a long time ago that Mr. Snow once killed an innocent boy with his bear hands, and then went to prison for his crime. However, during the riots of the Second Civil War, most prisoners managed to escape from captivity and flee all across the country. Thus rendering the prison system useless. The Vice President may of changed his full name to hide his true identity from the public, but my father was too cunning to be fooled by him. He recognized Mr. Snow's face immediately when he saw him supporting the current president on television five years ago.

"So are you going to let me play your sick little game now? Isn't that what you want? Don't you want to see the only person who knows about your past die?" I try to reassure the Vice President.

To be continued...


End file.
